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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29847411">Maybe this was meant to be</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Calvin/pseuds/Saint_Calvin'>Saint_Calvin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Dream SMP Spoilers, Dream Team SMP Roleplay (Video Blogging RPF), DreamSMP - Freeform, Help, How Do I Tag, Minecraft Roleplay - Freeform, Other, Panic Attacks, this is how I’m coping with Tommy’s death, this is my first fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:21:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29847411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Calvin/pseuds/Saint_Calvin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilbur and Tommy reunite in the afterlife. </p>
<p>Rated M for language and some gore, it’s not super graphic but the way Tommy died is pretty fucked, you know what I mean?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mexican Dream &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; Jschlatt, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot/Sally</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Maybe this was meant to be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first ever time posting on ao3 and just in case I fucked up the tags I want to make it abundantly clear that I am NOT SHIPPING WILBUR AND TOMMY. Okay have fun.</p>
<p>CW: Slight gore, panic attacks, death, c!dream, c!schlatt</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wooden path thunks dully under Tommy’s feet as he makes his way towards the large black walls of L’Manberg. His palms are scraped from what he assumes to be sparring practice with either Tubbo or Eret, but it must have been a particularly intense training session because his entire body aches with fatigue and bruises. The walls come into his field of vision and he speeds up, eager to get into the caravan to see Wilbur and tell him about his day. He does not know what he will say about it because he does not quite remember what he did, but this does not concern him because he does not stop to consider it. The door opens easily to his entrance and standing at the counter next to two or three brewing stands he sees his older brother, wearing his L’Manberg uniform, leaning on his forearms against the smooth stone and looking out the window. He looks a bit sad, lips turned down at the corners and hands shaking where they lay clasped on the counter. Tommy frowns and takes a step forward. </p><p>“Wilbur? What’s wrong?”</p><p>Wilbur snaps his head towards Tommy as if he’s been struck and immediately his expression shifts into one of horror, and then confusion, and then intense grief. Tommy takes a step back in shock and worry but Wilbur is already barrelling towards him and pulling him into a bear hug. Wilbur is the only person who’s ever been able to hug Tommy like this, wrapping him up so securely and tucking Tommy’s head under his chin as if he were a child instead of a freakishly tall giant. Wilbur’s arms feel strong around him and Tommy pulls him closer by his waist, letting the safety of his older brother sink into his bones and calm the frayed and aching nerves that he hadn’t really noticed until now. Tommy nuzzles his face against Wilbur’s chest and notes how shaky his brother’s breath has gone. Jagged and labored, Tommy realizes he must be crying, although he doesn’t know why, it couldn’t have been very long since he hugged his brother like this. Maybe he just had a really bad day. Wilbur’s jacket smells like blaze powder and the sea, sweet smoke and salt water blanketing Tommy in a familiarity he cherishes, he takes his brother in and feels as though it’s been years since he’s gotten to do this although it couldn’t have been. </p><p>“What are you doing here, Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice is shaky and thick with tears.</p><p>Tommy pulls back from Wilbur’s chest but keeps his arms firmly locked around his waist, he scrunches his nose and furrows his eyebrows as he considers the question.</p><p>“I’m here to see you, Will. Is that a problem?” </p><p>Wilbur looks him in the eyes and he can see the tears that are spilling from them freely. He doesn’t get to see his brother cry often, and he doesn’t understand why he’s crying now. He reaches up and pulls Wilbur’s head down to his shoulder and holds him there, his body starts shaking with more violent sobs and he clings to Tommy as if he’s his lifeline. He’s blubbering about things that Tommy can only barely make out, saying how good it is to see him but he shouldn’t be here, how it’s his fault for letting this happen, he should have been there to protect him. One thing catches Tommy’s attention, Dream’s name in the mess of sobs and rambling. Tommy hadn’t remembered Dream, how had he forgotten? This was his server after all, and he was their enemy. Dream… Tommy’s hold on Wilbur goes lax and he takes a step away from him, then another, and another until his back hits the wall of the caravan. He slides to the floor and he can’t seem to catch his breath. Dream. Dream did something to him, why can’t he remember what happened? The caravan walls seem too tight and he can’t breathe. He can feel someone touching his face and he throws his arms up to get them away from him, he starts screaming. He screams for Phil, for Wilbur, and then Techno and Sam, though those names don’t make sense to him at the moment. Then he’s being picked up and dragged away from his spot in the corner, he thrashes and screams and cries and all he can think about is the oppressive weight of hands on his neck, the sharp crack of his own ribs snapping in his chest, coughing until he spits up blood, his hands clawing at thick unyielding flesh and being hit again and again and again until all he can feel is pain and an oppressive lack of air. He can’t breathe, he can’t- </p><p>There’s a sharp jolt to his system and he comes back to himself to see Wilbur standing before him holding a metal bucket, Tommy is soaked in frigid ice water and his chest is heaving with the effort of trying to breathe. He forces himself to take a deep breath to calm his desperate fear of suffocating and looks around him. There’s grass underneath him where he lies with his legs sprawled out and arms bent underneath him to hold his torso a little ways off the ground. He sees the caravan not too far away and figures that he had been moved out to the small stream so his brother could throw frigid ice water on him. </p><p>“What the fuck, man?! That shit was fucking freezing what kind of pussy throws fucking ice water on his brother?!” </p><p>Tommy shouts and starts to stand up before collapsing back onto his ass when his legs are too shaky to hold his weight. He curls his legs into a criss-cross applesauce position and glares up at his brother.  </p><p>Wilbur is terrified, having just watched his little brother fall to the floor in a panic and having to throw freezing water on him to snap him out of it, but he starts giggling a little hysterically at Tommy’s outburst. His giggles devolve into breathless laughter that leaves him clutching his sides and sinking to his knees, bucket long forgotten off to the side. Tommy looks on at this display thinking about how much his brother has truly fucking lost it before giving in and chuckling at the absurdity of the situation. They laugh together, shaking off the frantic energy of the scene prior, eventually they calm themselves enough to pause and just look at each other. Tommy can hear the bubbling of the water that flows behind him, and the birds that are speaking to each other up in the trees. He looks around and notices for the first time that they are the only people in L’Manberg. He thinks back to his walk here and realizes that he didn’t see anybody then, either. He tries to remember where he was walking from, but there’s nothing but the walk and then the arrival. A flicker of something dark crosses his mind, and he tries to latch onto it. Obsidian, cold and hard against his body. Crying obsidian leaking onto him, coating him in the sickeningly sweet scent of its tears and making the potatoes he eats taste rotten. Dream. </p><p>Wilbur is shaking his shoulders, looking into his eyes with desperation and worry, asking Tommy to come back to him and not get swept away again. When he sees he’s got his attention he pulls him into another hug, one that is a little awkward considering their placement on the ground, but is welcomed nonetheless. It’s comforting to have his brother here to look after him. </p><p>“What happened, Tommy? Why are you here?” Wilbur whispers gently against Tommy’s left ear. </p><p>“I don’t know, Will. I don’t remember,” </p><p>Wilbur pulls away and sits down in front of Tommy, cross legged as well, and looks at him. Tommy’s hair is longer than it was when he last saw him, it reaches his shoulders and is sticky with some sort of purple goo that smells like Monster Energy mixed with two pounds of extra sugar. It’s still blonde as far as he can tell, but it’s so dirty that it could easily be mistaken for brown. His normally bright blue eyes are dull and glassy, as if he’s somewhere else entirely even though he’s sitting here in the walls of L’Manberg. And then there’s the rest of his body. His clothing is ripped and caked in dried blood, his pants are far too short for how long his legs are, and his shoes are untied and torn to shreds. All the exposed skin he can see is bruised and bloody, and he can make out the indentation of fingers on his neck where someone must have been gripping him. The blood on Tommy’s face catches his attention, there’s some dried and cracking at the sides of his mouth, but if he looks at it long enough it starts to look like it was placed there intentionally. It almost looks as if someone had smeared blood across his mouth to give the impression of a commedically large, almost painted on smiley face. The realization hits Wilbur like a truck and he gasps audibly, eyes widening as he takes in Tommy’s appearance with newly found context. </p><p>“Dream,” Wilbur mutters under his breath.</p><p>Tommy’s body jerks violently in response to the name, and his eyes are suddenly clear again as he stares at Wilbur, tension seeping into each of his limbs and holding him tight as his eyes flicker wildly over Wilbur’s face, trying to read his expression. </p><p>“What did you say?” Tommy’s voice is raspy and strained.</p><p>“Dream did this to you. Dream killed you,” Wilbur says in awe, not having processed the information yet. </p><p>Tommy’s eyes widen and he stands up abruptly, almost falling over with the effort before righting himself and swaying slightly on shaky legs. He starts waving his arms around and shaking his head, vehemently shouting ‘NO’ with his body language. </p><p>“No, absolutely not, there is no way. Really, Wilbur? Dream killed me? How could that be true, I’m not dead!” His voice pitches up at the end and breaks, trailing off into tense silence. </p><p>Wilbur stands up in front of his brother and grabs his hands, rubbing Tommy’s palms gently with his thumbs to soothe the panicked flailing. As he continues trying to soothe him, Tommy seems to deflate. His body goes lax and tired and he sinks back to the ground, this time on his knees with his calves spread out behind him. Wilbur kneels down with him and stops rubbing his palms to just hold his hands loosely, a reassurance that he’s there and won’t be leaving. </p><p>“I’m not dead, Wilbur, am I? If I’m dead that means,” Tommy inhales sharply and chokes on his own tears, wetly sobbing out the rest of his sentence, “if I’m dead that means you are too!” </p><p>Wilbur frowns and feels tears well up in his own eyes, he leans forward and pulls Tommy’s frail form to his. He holds him gently and they cry together, Tommy coming to the realization that not only is he dead, but so is his brother, and he has no idea how long it’s been since he gotten to hug Wilbur like this. How long he’s had to live without the comforting presence of his older brother keeping him grounded. He doesn’t know if he wants to remember his brother’s death, if he wants to remember what came after it. For as long as he’s known him Wilbur has been the one there to guide him, to take care of him, he doesn’t know what he would do without him. Once their tears die down Tommy takes another moment to just enjoy the presence of his brother, this time with the knowledge that he has been living without him for god knows how long. And they’re both dead. </p><p>“Come on, Tommy. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Wilbur says after a long moment of silence, his voice betraying how much he’d been crying that day. </p><p>Wilbur helps him to his feet and together they walk back into the caravan. Tommy hops up onto the island in the center of the room, swinging his feet and sniffling softly as Wilbur digs through chests to find him fresh clothes. He finds a spare red and white t-shirt and a pair of his own jeans that should fit Tommy alright, he sets them down on the counter and prepares a bowl of warm soapy water to help Tommy clean the dried blood and wounds that litter his body. He cleans his face first, getting rid of the horrific bloody smile, and helps him clean and dress the wounds along his arms and torso. Wilbur looks at Tommy’s hair and then smiles apologetically as he holds up a pair of scissors. Tommy nods and lets his hair be cut away, leaving a close cropped mess that he’s not fond of but Wilbur assures him will grow out in due time. Wilbur refills the bowl of warm soapy water and sets it down beside his brother on the counter. </p><p>“I’ll let you take care of the rest yourself, yeah?” He kisses Tommy gently on the forehead and exits the caravan to let him wash and dress himself. </p><p>While he waits outside Wilbur finally has a chance to think about what’s happened today. He wasn’t particularly aware of what was going on in the living world, he only got to see snapshots now and then if the universe decided there was something he needed to see. It had been a while since that happened, the most recent time being L’Manberg’s complete and utter destruction at the hands of his older brother, his father, and Dream. He frowns at the memory and wonders how Dream has been allowed to get away with any of what he’s done. Once Tommy regains more of his memories he’ll be sure to get a full report of what happened after his own death.</p><p>He remembers the early days of appearing here, there had been nobody to greet him immediately and help him adjust. He just showed up in L’Manberg and began to live his life normally. He did that for what must have been months, until he noticed that he was the only one there, and that he didn’t remember what he had been doing prior to waking up in L’Manberg. And then, as most sensible people would do, he started panicking. He cried and hid himself away in his caravan for days, maybe weeks, he wasn’t sure, time worked weirdly here. He slowly started to remember what had happened to him after days of racking his brain and crying in frustration when he couldn’t remember anything. He remembered the first betrayal, Eret’s, and how they won the first war. He remembered the discs, and Tommy’s first death, and the election. Things began to get a little fuzzy when he got to his exile, and Pogtopia, but in the days where he was remembering those, JSchlatt himself came knocking at his door. He had been wary at first, but he and Schlatt had been friends at one point, and Wilbur found it in himself to let him into the caravan so they could sit and talk. They pieced their memories together until they had a coherent account of what had happened during that time, Schlatt told him that he had given Dream a book and told him that it contained forbidden secrets, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him (no pun intended) what the book had actually said, and so that remained a mystery. </p><p>He was just getting to what he had been thinking about this morning, his wife Sally, who he was sure had to be dead at this point and wondering if she would ever come see him, or if she even knew where he was, when for the second time that day his little brother storms in and interrupts him. </p><p>“Wilbur Soot! Big man! Humina humina humina, look at me, oh!” Tommy screeches in a higher pitch than should be allowed today.</p><p>Wilbur laughs and pulls Tommy towards him and wrestles him to the ground, telling him to shut up and that he’s so fucking annoying, but they’re both laughing as they fall to the grass and they both feel as though they’ve missed this. Wilbur pulls Tommy to his feet and looks at him, pleased with how the clean clothes fit him and how he looks more like the Tommy he knows now. A thick blanket of shadows falls over them and he realizes that the sun is setting, so they head back inside the caravan and sit down at the island. They sit in calm silence as the sun sets outside the L’Manberg walls and eat steak for dinner, the torches in the caravan becoming responsible for all of the light. </p><p>“I guess I should try to remember what happened to me, huh?” Tommy says after he finishes eating. </p><p>“There’s no rush, we have all the time in the world here, afterall. We’ll figure it out eventually. And when we do I’m going to resurrect myself just so I can shove a sword down that green teletubby’s fucking throat,” Wilbur snarls the ending of his sentence, tracing the sharp curve of the steak knife he’s holding.</p><p>Tommy laughs and cheers on Wilbur’s display of violence towards Dream. A knock at the door of the caravan pulls their attention and Tommy stands up with fear in his eyes as it opens and footsteps come towards them from the front. His gaze flickers to Wilbur and he’s met with a reassuring smile and Wilbur stepping forward in front of Tommy to shield him from whoever has entered the caravan. A white blob with the Mexican flag painted on his face and a horrific goatee comes into view followed by a disheveled man with large ram horns and a wrinkled blue suit adorned with an American flag pin on the lapel. Tommy shouts with glee from behind Wilbur and rushes forward with a shout of “Mexican Dream!” and embraces the white blob. Wilbur nods at the goat man and gives a polite “Schlatt, good to see you,” as he shakes his hand. The door opens again and they all freeze, everyone who was known to be in this afterlife was already in this room, none of them knew who would be coming around the corner next. Tommy takes Mexican Dream and scurries behind Wilbur and JSchlatt, cowering behind the island and waiting to see who it would be. </p><p>The last person rounds the corner and Wilbur’s heart stops in his chest. It’s a tall woman, nearly seven feet tall, with billowing ginger hair and curls elegantly around a golden circlet atop her head and delicately blushed gills where her ears would be if she were human. But she’s not human, she’s a sea nymph. She’s Wilbur’s sea nymph. She smiles at him kindly and he chokes on tears for what feels like the hundredth time that day. He surges forward to embrace her and she wraps her soft arms around his shoulders and holds him close to her chest, a hand coming up to glide through his hair. She’s tall and slim, her dress hangs loosely from her frame and she smells of salt water and strawberry candy. She’s cool to the touch, reminiscent of a soft sea breeze, and it soothes the fire that rockets through Wilbur’s veins at all times. The rest of the party stares in awe, taking in the presence of this ethereal woman cradling Wilbur as if he’s the most precious thing in the world to her. They don’t doubt that he is. Schlatt is the one to recover himself the quickest, when Wilbur finally pulls away and lets the woman step further into the caravan he holds out his hands and gives hers a friendly squeeze when she offers it to him. </p><p>“It’s nice to see you, Sally,” He says, and the others can hear the smile in his voice. </p><p>She beams at him and nods, turning her attention to Tommy who is still standing shocked at the back of the room. She walks towards him and places a hand gently upon his head, ruffling his hair as an older sister would to her troublemaking kid brother. </p><p>“Hello Tommy, we’ve met before but I think you were too young to remember,” Her voice sounds like wind chimes and gentle bubbles, the strawberry and sea salt scent is stronger now that she’s standing close to him. </p><p>Tommy stares at her for a moment before breaking into a huge grin and tackling her in a hug. She’s much taller than him, even more so than Wilbur, but he doesn’t mind. He had never thought that he’d actually get to meet Wilbur’s wife, half convinced that Wilbur had made her up to impress people. But meeting Sally now, seeing the shimmer in Wilbur’s eyes as he stares at her in utter adoration, he thinks he can get used to her presence. </p><p>They all seat themselves around the island and start in on a night of catching up and enjoying each other’s company. Tommy and Mexican Dream are having some sort of animated conversation in a corner that makes Tommy giggle and screech as if he were a young kid every few minutes. Nobody minds, and Wilbur is overjoyed that Tommy is getting to enjoy harmless fun without having to think about anything far too big for a teenager to handle. Schlatt sits with Sally and Wilbur, making polite and friendly conversation with the sea nymph while Wilbur melts into her side and she pets his hair lovingly. It has been years since Schlatt has gotten to see his good friend with his wife. He recognizes the expression of pure contentment on his face, it’s one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again. Sally looks down at her husband, his good friend who she had always gotten along with and was pleased to speak to now, her little brother in law who is playing with what she knows to be another creature of the gods, and she feels happy. Tommy looks up from where he’s playing with Mexican Dream and meets her gaze, he smiles at her and shares her joy, Wilbur’s contentment, Schlatt’s relaxation, and he thinks that maybe being dead isn’t so bad afterall.</p>
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